


A Window in the Snow

by AmateurScribes



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Comedy, Fluff, M/M, Mind Meld, Surprising yeah I know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 13:55:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16041830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: The list of all the times Grif has ever been confused in his life is pretty short, but what's on there is quiteextensive.But this?Holding hands with the Meta after he just tried to kill him climbs that listreallyfast.





	A Window in the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> Just a nice break from all the angst lately! So this is a gift fic for my dearest friend, hams, who deserves only the best but really only ever gets my angst. Hope you guys like it too! This fic wasn't looked over by my Beta's so all mistakes are mine!

Grif is  _ very confused. _ Well, more than confused really. He's fucking  _ bewildered _ right now. The dictionary definition of  _ befuddled. _

He just really... has no goddamn clue how he ended up holding hands with  _ the Meta, _ after being dragged into the base at Sidewinder as the other Reds and Blues, and Wash, tried negotiating his return.

The last thing he  _ clearly _ remembered was launching himself at the Meta to try and grapple the  _ whatever that cool as fuck weapon was called _ off of him. He felt his hand clasp onto the Meta's neck and then-

_ He feels bullet after bullet go through his neck and he feels himself choke on the blood- _

Grif was disorientated, flat on his back in the snow, so dizzy that when the Meta approached him again he saw double. 

He only vaguely felt the Meta grab onto his ankle before dragging him through the snow towards the base  _ thing whatever _ that he hadn't really paid attention to when they first arrived on Sidewinder, beyond when he and Simmons had entered that  _ hanger... thing _ to look for batteries.

His head hurts. And his neck only vaguely hurts a little bit. But only a little bit.

Grif glances back up at the Meta who, until now, had basically let Grif just settle down and get his bearings straight after  _ whatever the hell _ it was that occurred between the two of them. But now he was looking down at Grif, and well, Grif would like to think he's pretty well versed in helmet body language by now.

But he has not a single goddamn clue as to what kind of face the Meta was making towards him.

Hesitantly, he raised the hand that was  _ not _ being held by the Meta and squeaked out a, "Hi?"

The Meta didn't say anything, just continued to stare at him, before huffing and lightly squeezing their clasped hands. Then he turned back to where he was glaring at the others and said a very,  _ very _ gruff but  _ audible, _ "Fuck off Wash."

His mouth fucking  _ dropped. _

It takes him a few seconds to let it sink in. Another few seconds to debate whether or not he heard correctly. Then he tries to give himself just a  _ few _ more seconds to accept the fact that he heard the Meta speak.

He skips over those extra few seconds to jump straight to the loud, "What the fuck?"

The Meta doesn't answer him, and it didn't look like the others heard him either.

So he was the only one around to endure this revelation then. Just fucking great.

"Maine!" Wash yelled from his position outside of the base, having to crane his head up to look at the platform the Meta had situated the both of them on. "Real classy, but stop playing games and  _ return _ Grif to us before we have to use force!"

The Meta merely looked at Wash before saying a firm, "No."

Then he  _ finally _ let go of Grif's hand. But then he knelt down next to Grif.

Which honestly might have been, you know,  _ worse. _

His head still hurts, and his body still feels lethargic, so he  _ would _ have tried to get out of the way. But at this point? He's gonna let the Meta do whatever it is that he wants.

Which he  _ hopes _ involves  _ not his death. _

The Meta reaches up with both hands to remove his own helmet, which was shocking by itself.

What shocked Grif, even more, was that, for all that the Meta had seemed like some sort of monster from his nightmares, he looked human. 

And with a small- only a  _ small- _ blush as the Meta leaned in closer, Grif acknowledged that he actually didn't  _ look bad. _

So if he died at least it was by some who looked decent. That should count as a bonus, right?

But then the Meta was removing  _ his _ helmet and the situation becomes a lot more stressful.

The Meta merely settled Grif's helmet down next to his own, the harsh winds of Sidewinder nipped at Grif's exposed face, and he just knew that the Simmons half of his face was turning red because of the freezing weather  _ and that was the only reason why. _

Breathing out, he can see his breath and it was a quiet moment between the two.

Then the Meta grabbed and squished his face, staring down quizzically at him. He turned his face to the left and to the right as if he was expecting some diamond for any flaws in the gem.

So apparently the situation could get a lot weirder, and he said as much as he muttered, "This is so fucking weird."

After the Meta found  _ whatever it was that he was looking for _ he stood up and looked down at Wash and merely growled. Which ok, confused Grif since he  _ just _ heard the Meta speak, but at this point, this was the least confusing thing that had occurred to focus on.

_ "'Keeping him?'" _ Wash shrieked. "You can't just keep him! What are you even going to do with him? Scratch that- don't answer, because  _ you're not keeping him!" _

The Meta growled out something again and caused Wash to have what  _ sounded _ like an aneurysm, and then Grif heard Doc panic and ask something before Wash dismissed him.

Popping his head up only slightly so that the others could see the top of his head, he called down, "Hey guys? This is super fucking weird and I have no  _ goddamn _ idea what the fuck is going on right now."

The Meta lightly pushed his head back down, before taking his hand in his again. 

"Wait, so can you speak and just  _ choose _ not to or is something else going on," Grif asked. Glancing down at their clasped hands.

The Meta's eyes merely flicker down to him, before focusing on Wash again.

He had just about resigned himself to not getting any answers when a flash of a blue scoreboard lit up before his eyes, every other name blurry except for the name  _ Agent Maine. _

Now that he thought about it, Wash  _ had _ been calling the Meta 'Maine.'

Ok, so that was one way to start an introduction.

"Uh," he started, unsure if he was reading the whole  _ mind-meld _ situation right. "I'm Grif?"

The Met-  _ Maine _ huffed out an approximate of a laugh before looking down at Wash, and now that Grif was slightly more coherent he could see how Maine moved his mouth to growl whereas he heard clearly, "He's my soulmate. Not yours."

Grif pursed his lips and blinked a few times at hearing that. His first reaction was, well, that that was  _ bullshit _ and just a bunch of malarkey. Like some shit out of one of those sappy smut romance novels that  _ Donut _ enjoyed reading. Pure garbage and nonsense.

Plus, he's never really heard about soulmates meeting without even knowing about the existence of soulmates. In Donut's trash novels, there was always some sort of mechanic to it- like having each other's names written on their wrists or something equally as sentimental.

Not, 'oh suddenly you can understand each other perfectly when before you couldn't'. Among, what? Memory transfers. That sounded more like a start of some hive mind shit than soulmate mechanics. 

"I'm sorry, you think he's your  _ what?" _ Wash screeches. "Where would you even get an idea like that?  _ Soulmates of all things?" _

"Wait, what?" Tucker buts in. "The Meta thinks that- he and Grif are-  _ soulmates!" _

It takes a second for that declaration to sink in amongst the others, but when it does, it's pure and absolute chaos.

"NO!" Tucker yells, crossing his arms in an 'x' before slashing them down. "NO! That's not-  _ that's not allowed!" _

"Soulmates?" Sarge barks out, before slamming his palm against his helmet. "I hate Grif as much as any sane human should- but even that's too  _ much _ for the dirtbag!"

"You asshole!" Tucker screeches, picking up some snow and throwing it at the base, missing completely. "You're! Ruining!  _ Everything!" _

"What," Wash stresses, glancing at Tucker. "Are you even going on about?"

"My ship," Tucker pleaded, and Grif can only imagine how desperate Tucker must look under the helmet at that, seeing as he  _ sounded _ like a scandalized PTA mother. "That  _ asshole _ is ruining my ship! How the hell is Simmons supposed to compete with someone whose  _ Grif's soulmate," _ he wailed.

"What!" Now it was Simmons turn to screech. "We're not- we aren't-  _ me and Grif don't like each other that way!" _

"Of course now you say that," it sounded like Tucker had actual tears in his eyes. "You're just backed in a cosmic coincidence corner-  _ I hate this fucking universe." _

"Shut up!" Wash yelled. "You don't even- Maine  _ where the fuck did you get that idea from?" _

Maine looked at Wash like  _ he _ was the crazy one, before just saying, "Freelancer."

"When the hell did- you know what," Wash put up both hands in front of himself. "Not only am I basically bleeding out right now, but this is some SIM Trooper bullshit and I shouldn't ask any more questions."

Doc perked his head up from where he was watching over the memory unit and became  _ aware _ of just what type of conversation was going on.

"He's not gonna eat Grif, right?" Doc asked hesitantly. "Like, you were only joking before,  _ right?" _

_ "Eat him!" _ Tucker parroted. "What kind of kinky shit is this? Simmons, you need to save Grif from his  _ soulmate, now." _

"Tucker, shut up. Doc, of course, he's not gonna  _ eat _ him, don't be ridiculous," Wash admonished before shooing him away again. He waited a few seconds for Doc to get distracted before cupping his hands around his helmet again to call out, "Maine, I swear to God you  _ better _ not be even  _ thinking _ about doing that!"

Maine only raised his hand to flip Wash off in response. 

Grif was almost definitely missing something, but the brief flash that entered his conscious of Doc and Wash in that desert architectural site gave him enough of a guess on when that conversation happened. So he'd let it slide for right now.

Despite how fucking weird it sounds.

Grif had to say that he was handling this soulmate situation  _ reasonably _ well.

"So," Grif drawled out. "If you're my soulmate, does that mean you're on Red Team?"

Maine looked down at him, and it  _ seemed _ like he was  _ considering _ the idea. Which, wow ok, it should've been an immediate answer to that question, considering his  _ soulmate _ was a Red.

"Yes," Maine nodded. 

Grif nodded back, muttering, "Sweet, finally it's our turn to have a Freelancer."

Leaning back up over the ledge, he glances down at the scene of idiots below him.

"Hey, guys!" Grif calls out. "Maine says he'll be a Red!"

"A what?" Tucker hollered.

"A Red,  _ Blue, _ what else would he be?" Grif yelled back.

"Wait, how is that fair," Tucker whined.

"Tucker, how are you seriously asking that question," Wash glared at him. "That is the least of your concerns right now."

Sarge contemplatively thought about, thought  _ really _ hard about it, before grunting in approval calling out, "Grif! Although you are useless for just about  _ everything _ else, this may be the one instance where your miserable existence has some benefit."

"You're ok with this," Tucker asked, having calmed down enough to ignore the whole  _ soulmate _ prospect. "Seriously? The Meta  _ just _ tried to kill us all."

"And now he's a Red," Sarge argued. "Which means, the only people  _ he's _ gonna be killing, are you dirty  _ blues." _

"No one is going to kill anyone," Wash interjected. "Besides, I'm on Blue Team now, which means both sides get a Freelancer," he sighed loudly. "No matter how  _ weird _ the circumstances that led to that being true have occurred."

"Just," he put his hand against his helmet and sighed  _ again. _ "Grif! can you stay where you are while we go check on Epsilon?"

"Uh, yeah, I sure hope I can," Grif rolled his eyes. "Relax dude, he's not gonna kill me."

Grif leaned away from the ledge and just looked back at Maine. Then he looked down at their clasped hands. He had no idea how any of this worked, but he wanted to see if he could try to send a memory through the bond too.

Closing his eyes and squeezing Maine's hands, he tries to send back a memory of a beach in Hawai'i, the way the wind would blow through his hair and the smell of salt water being carried by the breeze. The shiny shimmery blue of the crystal clear waters. Just, something nice.

Maine looks down at him and only says, "Feels nice." before focusing on the others down below.

Ok, so, obviously he still had a lot to learn about this whole soulmate thing. But clearly he had all the time in the world to do it, so he just leaned, leaned back against the wall and held hands with Maine.

Which, yeah was still weird, but now it was a nice weird.

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so if anyone was curious as to the whole soulmate mechanics it's basically, "First touch that's almost skin to skin let's you know who's your soulmate, and then holding hands enables translations/shared thoughts/transfer of memories via only one sense" which is something I came up with myself _at least I think I did_.
> 
> As always, my Tumblrs are: agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing).


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